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[Inferno] That bane to comfort, modern men endure. Yes, even epicurean treats are stained at times by 'tie' food rules. Is there no cure? [Purgatory] Encumbered, still, the neck might yet be trained to bear the Blue cravat and not to hollar, for only light constriction has remained. [Paradisio] But far the best (and cheapest) for my dollar and worn with ease by those who self-employ is naught but freedom gained: the open collar! Stanley E. Anderson [Inferno] But still, it's often easy to deploy The tie, if one should lack a serviette, To sop up chin-stains which sometimes annoy. [Purgatory] I sing of straight-ties, not the loathesome set Of bows loved by Simon of Illinois, Pee Wee Herman, and other such fools. And yet [Paradisio] If one eats shreaded wheat or petit pois, The best device for catching fallen bits Remains a fullsome beard. That is my choice. Martin H. Booda [Inferno] But MINE is not the organ's droning blitz -- Though time yet it preserves, I cannot cheer, However liltingly the trained hand flits. [Purgatory] A plain piano strikes the tune more clear, When halting congregations must needs warp The music of the spheres to bend God's ear [Paradisio] From where, unfaltering, sounding flat nor sharp, A seraph choir uplifts its chants of praise To the accompanying of a Celtic harp. Angelee Sailer Anderson [Paradisio] By chance, if chants required the choir to phrase its lines in pentametric iambs, then 'twould be the Muses' gift that it conveys. [Purgatory] The bouncy sound we found so fun, the pen will put to paper. Nurs'ry first, then, worse the pun, and limerick the rapier -- The End. [Inferno] The current style sees rhyming as THE curse and forges so-called pomes from well-formed prose. Please Re-'verse' the omnipresent free verse. Stanley E. Anderson [Inferno/good] I find I use all my fingers and toes To measure out the length of ev'ry line Lord, send inchworms! I could use some of those. [Purgatory/better] I'll teach each larva to crawl from the vine And calculate my barefoot poesy's worth; While I imbibe in deeper things (like wine). [Paradisio/best] Let these, my meter-checkers of the Earth, Free me to pursue Venus's fair charms And rush, like Mercury, to soul's rebirth. Martin H. Booda [Paradisio] To see the orbs of gods forgot, in arms of darkness; sparklers held by Zodiac -- or fireflies in fields of country farms, [Purgatory] becomes a glory dulled when rendered back in digital displays from telescopes controlled by cold computers' memory stacks. [Inferno] And dead at last on graphs to chart the hopes of Ken and Barbie minds who read their fates in stale, generic, daily horoscopes. Stanley E. Anderson [Inferno] And all this time observ'ed by their mates, Who shake their heads and mumble with despair And count the moments to those pearly gates [Paradisio] Where, greeted by cherubim (golden hair In much profusion), they will spend their days In paradise without a hint of care. [Purgatorio?] If such place boasts knot-garden or a maze (Not certain to be found in heav'nly parts), 'Tis sure to have capacity to faze. Brian E. Smith [Inferno] Of all tormentous slings, arrows and darts Hell could possess, the atrophy of mind Would be the torture which most surely smarts. [Paradisio] Heaven, contrariwise, would be most kind To feature games and pastimes which would hone the blesseds' sapient wit, by God design'd. [Paradisio/Inferno] That, and music of melodious tone I strive for. But the loathesome tune of Hell Would surely be a ringing Telephone. Martin H. Booda [Inferno] Our cars now house that loathesome tune, as well as fax and prob'ly soon some web-based toys; A sort of driver's Tomaguchi bell? [Purgatorio] We have (in parking lots) that beeping noise to signal theft (or quakes) and locking doors, and air bags not for baby girls or boys. [Paradisio] Instead of cruise control and Four-by-Fours, I'd like some kind of 'traffic internet' with 'auto' Netscape/IE browser wars. Stanley E. Anderson [Inferno] Aggression and the raw "highway-mindset" Have transferred easily to cyberspace Good thing there are no virtual guns...yet [Purgatorio] Imagine if you got in someone's face And they sent cyber-shot to blow you down. God forbid we should ever meet that case. [Paradisio] Better, by far, encount'ring some rude clown One could embellish his or her image, Say, with drawn-in moustache or pointy crown. Martin H. Booda [Inferno] The inner city walls show signs of scrimmage between the street gangs, spraying their graffiti to mark their territory and their lineage. [Purgatorio] And in the fields of England -- not so seedy, but pranksters still -- blokes fashion in the night crop circles to mislead the spiritually needy. [Paradisio] The Nazca shapes as seen from aerial height appear mysterious, but perhaps were made by E.T. taggers on an Earth-buzz flight. Stanley E. Anderson (with fine tuning by Angelee) [Inferno] Do Aliens kidnap folks who to Them prayed, subject them to indignities demonic, then leave them free but mortally afraid? [Purgatorio] Less dreadful, yet how bland are embryonic ghoulies of the Close Encounters race. True "otherness" demands a stronger tonic: [Paradisio] The unknown tongue I hope to hear 'mid Grace and Glory, is my dog's, no longer dumb, yelping my name before he licks my face. Angelee Sailer Anderson [Inferno] I often wonder what strange voices from Pets' mouths would speak, if they were sapient. Would they respond, "Get lost!" when I yelled "Come!"? [Purgatorio] Or would they hide their feelings and intent? Conspire they to control our dominus Or are they truly with their lot content? [Paradisio (for the animals?)] What bodes, when, midst the circumstance and fuss, They march in triumph, opening each cage To free their brethren...and imprison us? Martin H. Booda [Inferno] No need! We struggle at an early age to build our own, with toys and worldly stuff, and lock 'em with a decent living wage. [Purgatorio] Then, peering through the bars that seem so tough we may, if lucky, notice that the lock is on the inside. Can we say, "Enough!"-- [Paradisio] and pour out tithes and off'rings to unblock our road to Heaven, helping others on their way who have forgotten where to walk? Stanley E. Anderson [Inferno] Thick lie the dead litt'ring the autobahn that speeds the hasty to an end, indeed: a block to fit their stiffened necks upon. [Purgatorio] Wiser the war horse, trained to quickly heed each twitching of his reins, till strife's own sod a pasture seems, if but his lord there lead. [Paradisio] Yet happiest of all, though slow I plod, I'd fain a donkey be -- my stable sure, if but my halter's handler be my God. Angelee Sailer Anderson [Inferno] That bane to comfort, modern men endure . . . (return to Neckware) |